Fathers and sons
by BHP
Summary: Family is where you find it.


A/N : Firstly, thanks to everyone who welcomed me to the fandom when I posted my first story earlier this week. It's the first story I've ever written, and the kind remarks certainly encouraged me to take a shot at finishing some other stories. This would be the first result of your kind encouragement..

Secondly, abject apologies for leaving out the usual disclaimer on my first story – Nothing belongs to me. (More's the pity!)

Fathers and sons

The envelope arrived in the morning mail. Plain and unassuming, it lay on the hall table with the other letters. The only thing marking it as unusual was the typed address, as most letters for Mark were addressed by hand.

Still, that alone wasn't enough to make Hardcastle think twice before he collected the letters and dropped Mark's next to his place at the breakfast table. The sudden silence when Mark opened the letter, though, that certainly got his attention. Looking over the top of his newspaper, he was surprised to see that all the colour had drained from the young man's face, and the hand holding the letter was shaking.

"Mark, what's wrong?" concern coloured the judge's voice. Receiving no answer, the judge moved to take the letter from Mark's hand. Meeting no resistance, he turned the sheet of paper to face him, and read the few brief paragraphs. "Oh no. Oh, kiddo, I'm so sorry." Sonny Daye had passed away two weeks earlier in Las Vegas. A sudden summer cloudburst had washed away the road, taking Sonny's car with it. None of the rescue services had been able to reach the car in time. It had taken the local police department two weeks to track Mark down from a letter Mark had written to Sonny months earlier.

Reading the rest of the letter, Hardcastle gathered that unless Mark contacted the Las Vegas police in two weeks from the date of the letter, Sonny would be given a pauper's burial in Las Vegas. Checking the date of the letter, the judge realised that Mark would need to speak to the police representative named in the letter immediately, as the last day of the two week period was today. Looking at Mark, who was still sitting unmoving at the table, Hardcastle decided that he would offer to deal with things for Mark. It was the least he could do. After all, if it weren't for Sonny Daye, Mark would never have been born and Hardcastle would have been deprived of one of the best relationships of his life.

"Mark, I'm going to call the Las Vegas police department about this. Is there anything special Sonny wanted done, you know, after he …?" Hardcastle stumbled over the word 'died', somehow it just seemed too cold a term to use.

With a visible effort, Mark pulled himself together and shook his head slowly. "I don't know, judge, I just … What does that say about me, that I don't even know what my own father wanted?" The look of blank shock was leaving Mark's face, to be replaced by self-loathing and despair. What kind of person was he, after all, to know so little about the one person in the world that he should know the most about? How could he have let all this time go by without finding out anything substantial about his father? He recognised that he was still angry about how his father had left him and his mother, but now he would never have the chance to make things right between the two of them. Shaking off the morbid thoughts, he looked up to meet Hardcastle's eyes. The compassion he saw there was almost his undoing, but he forced himself not to break. He would not cry for Sonny. He couldn't. He had no right to mourn for someone he'd never taken the time to know.

Rising to stand next to the judge, Mark took the letter back from him. "I guess I'd better see about organising the funeral. I suppose it might be better to have it in Las Vegas. Most of the people he knew were probably there. I'll have to clear some time with my professors, but that shouldn't be a problem. Then I'll need to get myself to Vegas, so I don't think I'd better set a date before the end of the week." The mental list was getting longer by the second, and Mark stared off into space, trying to think logically and not leave out anything important. He would get this right for Sonny, as he had nothing else to offer his father now. If duty was all he could offer, then so be it, but he would do things right.

Hardcastle watched the performance with something akin to awe. He'd never seen anyone move on from a shock like that with this amount of self-control, or so quickly. Still, he had a feeling that all he was seeing was exactly that, a performance. Interrupting the running commentary, he pushed McCormick towards the den. "Okay, kiddo, let's start with the phone call to the police. We can work on everything else after that."

The self-control was still in evidence as McCormick worked through the formalities with the police department. Then it was on to the funeral home, to arrange for them to collect the remains and organise the funeral for the end of the week. Then there were still more phone calls – to professors, to classmates in study groups, and others. By lunchtime, the bulk of the calling was done, and Mark was just waiting for the funeral home to contact him with the final details. The funeral director would see to notices in the local newspapers, as Mark didn't know who any of Sonny's friends were, or how to contact them.

Leaning back in the chair, Mark stretched until his joints cracked. Letting his arms drop, he finally looked at Hardcastle. "What do you want for lunch, judge? I don't know about you, but all this calling had made me hungry." The slight strain in his voice showed how hard he was trying to sound as though nothing was wrong. Hardcastle decided to go along with the younger man for the moment, and headed off towards the kitchen to see what looked appealing. "Let me know when you want to leave for Las Vegas, kiddo, and I'll go with you." Mark's immediate response was exactly what the judge had expected, "You don't need to do that, judge, I'm fine." At Hardcastle's sceptical look, he had the decency to look a little abashed "It was just a bit of a shock, judge, what with it being so sudden and all. But I'm okay now, really."

"I know that, hotshot, but I'd like to pay my respects to Sonny as well. After all, I did meet the man a couple of times." At this Mark looked taken aback, but then he rallied quickly. "Sure, judge, it's up to you. I think I'll probably leave tomorrow morning, as long as the funeral director can set things up for the day after. If not, then I'll leave the day after tomorrow."

By early afternoon, all the details had been confirmed, and Mark was planning their departure for early the next day.

00000

The next morning dawned bright and clear and by the time Hardcastle came downstairs, Mark was nowhere to be found. Checking the garage, the judge found that the cars were still there, so Mark had to be somewhere nearby. Listening to the distant sound of the ocean, Hardcastle took a slow walk across the lawn to the pathway down to the beach. Sure enough, he could see Mark sitting on the beach staring out over the waves. As he watched, Hardcastle saw the young man stand up and start to walk back up the sand towards the cliff. Mark's steps were slow and heavy, redolent of the despair that seemed to hang over him like a menacing cloud. Stepping back out of McCormick's line of sight, the judge walked halfway back to the house, then turned back to face the beach. The kid obviously wanted things to be as normal as possible, so he thought he'd oblige. "Hey, McCormick. Where are you? Time's a-wasting! Let's get moving."

00000

The trip to Las Vegas had been long and hot. Mark had insisted on driving and Hardcastle had given in with as much good grace as he could muster. He could see that Mark needed everything to seem as normal as possible, and keeping himself busy was obviously a way to stop him brooding on the past and his regrets. Hardcastle knew what that felt like. He had his own share of regrets about the things he'd never said aloud to his son, things he should have said but could never find the courage to simply say out loud. Sonny's sudden death had made Hardcastle consider his relationship with Mark in a more serious fashion, and the judge had realised that there were things he needed to say to Mark as well. Just because he thought the kid understood how he felt didn't mean that he shouldn't say it out loud. Perhaps this was the right time to finally say what was in his heart.

Finding a motel in Las Vegas wasn't a problem, but spotting one that the judge was willing to stay in proved to be a bigger problem. This one was too flea-bitten, that one was too noisy, and so on. Finally, Mark spotted one that met all the judge's criteria, and the speed with which Hardcastle acquiesced suggested that the older man had only been complaining out of habit. That thought almost made Mark smile. The judge was trying hard to keep things on an even keel for them both. At least the motel was near the police station and the funeral home, so it would take long to get around and sort out the last of the formalities.

After doing the rounds of the police department and the funeral home, even Mark's boundless energy appeared depleted. The late afternoon sun was still too hot to make going for a walk a viable option, so the two men simply went back to the motel to see if they could find a game on the television. Mark made an effort to seem like his usual, smart alec self, making comments on the game and complaining when the players or the referee did something he considered stupid. After a while, though, the enthusiasm waned somewhat, and Hardcastle steered the topic of conversation towards supper. Ordering takeout pizza seemed an easier option than trying to find somewhere nearby to eat. Mark's lack of appetite was simply more proof, if Hardcastle needed it, that Mark's mental state was much more subdued than the younger man was letting on.

00000

The next morning was no cooler than the day before had been. Mark looked extremely uncomfortable in the sports coat he was wearing to the funeral service, while the judge simply looked solemn. Mark glanced at the judge as they left the motel, and thought how the man had become his rock in the midst of all this turmoil. The judge was always there, with just the right amount of compassion and normal sniping comments to make Mark feel that he just might be able to get through this after all.

The funeral turned out to be a very small affair, with only a few mourners in attendance. Mark looked at the small group and felt sad to realise that so few people seemed to care that Sonny was gone. While the minister was speaking, Mark found himself making a mental comparison between his father and Hardcastle. Hardcastle's funeral would be a huge affair, Mark knew, with all the friends and colleagues who would want to be present to say their final goodbyes to one of the best people you could ever hope to meet. The judge was always honest, compassionate, and he'd do anything within his power to help those who needed it. God forbid that anything should happen to Hardcastle, as Mark didn't think he'd be able to cope with losing the judge. And there was the crux of the problem. He could easily see his life going on without his father, but not without Hardcastle.

Surely it was wrong to not feel more than he did for Sonny. The man may have been unreliable and untrustworthy, but he was still Mark's father. Overwhelming feelings of relief and guilt kept swamping Mark. He was so relieved that Sonny wouldn't be coming around the estate again, or buying him another bar as a 'gift', or just generally causing more mayhem every time Mark saw him. Yet still, he felt horribly guilty for feeling relieved. He knew that he should be grief-stricken at losing a parent, and effectively becoming an orphan, but what he felt now was nothing compared to the feeling of losing his mom, or the fear he felt at the thought of losing the judge. All of which added up to a simple conclusion – he was obviously not a good son, if he couldn't even mourn the loss of his father.

Hardcastle was also surprised at how small the funeral was. He had expected more of Sonny's entertainment industry friends to show up, but obviously, they hadn't been very good friends. They were probably already working on their next gig, or planning their next party. Hardcastle cast a long, considering glance at Mark, sitting alongside him in the pew. The kid looked worn out, which was understandable, but underneath that, something more was haunting him. His eyes were shadowed and dark, with no spark of life or energy. That, more than anything else, bothered the judge. He'd never seen the kid look so lost before, not even when he was facing a prison term in Hardcastle's courtroom. Reflecting on how things work out, Hardcastle mused that Mark had turned out to be everything that Sonny hadn't been. He was honest, frequently at his own expense and in spite of his best attempts to prevaricate. Hardcastle would trust Mark with his life, and he wouldn't have trusted Sonny with his wallet. Mark was putting a lot of effort into making a better life and future for himself, whilst Sonny had always been happy just to coast through life taking the path of least resistance. He was a son to be proud of, and Hardcastle just hoped he could find the right words to tell him so.

After speaking with the funeral director about the cremation, Mark looked ready to drop. Hardcastle guided him slowly out of the funeral home. "C'mon, kiddo, let's go back to the motel now." Mark pulled away from the gentle hand. "Thanks, but I think I'll just go for a walk. I'll see you back at the room later." The monotone had the judge's radar on alert immediately. "Sure you don't want some company?" At the quick shake of Mark's head, the judge gave in. "Well, be careful you don't get heatstroke out there. Get something to drink, at least." That earned him a small smile and a nod, before the younger man turned away and walked slowly down the street.

00000

Two hours later, the judge was pacing the motel room with short, anxious paces. Mark was still not back, and he was starting to worry that the kid had collapsed from heatstroke. He should have insisted that Mark give him the sports coat to bring back to the motel with him. He decided to give it another half hour, and then he would start calling all the local emergency rooms. Ten minutes before his self-imposed deadline, he heard a key in the lock, and the door opened to let an exhausted looking Mark into the room. "McCormick, where the hell have you been? I was about to start calling hospitals looking for you." The words were out of his mouth before he stopped to think. Mark's response was immediate and blistering "I'm not a child, Hardcase. I can look after myself, you know." Mark could see the concern on the judge's face, but now that he'd started, he didn't seem to be able to rein himself in. "It's none of your business if I decide to stay out all night. You're not my father, and you have no right to tell me what to do!" The words dried up when Mark saw the hurt look flash across the judge's face. "Oh God, judge, I'm sorry. I didn't mean … I just don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Well, let's start with exhaustion, and then move on from there. You haven't slept much since you got that letter, have you?" The judge's tone was even and unconcerned, as though Mark hadn't just cut him to the quick. "No. I can't sleep, judge. I try, but every time I close my eyes, I see Sonny and think about all the things I didn't know about him, all the things I never bothered to ask, and now it's too late. I can't even make up my mind whether I loved him. And if I didn't, what does that say about me? And how can I be so concerned about me, and what I feel, when he's … dead?" Mark choked the final word out.

"Mark, listen to me. Guilt is normal when something like this happens. We all wish there were things we'd done differently, things we'd said, questions we'd thought to ask. But we didn't, and now we have to learn to live with what we know." Something in Hardcastle's tone made Mark look up at him. Reading the question in the younger man's eyes, the judge simply nodded. "I've felt like this too, kiddo, and there's nothing you can do except wait it out. It will get better over time, I promise you that."

"Now, as to the rest of what you said. You can't blame yourself if you feel that you didn't really love Sonny as a father. He may have been your father by blood, but he wasn't there while you were growing up. That has to change how you feel about him. Every situation is unique, and whatever you feel is right for you. You shouldn't feel like you have to apologise for your whatever you feel. In spite of everything, you tried to keep in touch, and you did what any good son would have done today. Sonny loved you in his own way, and I think he would be proud of how you turned out." Hardcastle was trying to look anywhere but at Mark, as talking about anything emotional wasn't something he liked doing. He always meant to say one thing, but somehow ended up saying something else, or not managing to get his point across. But this was too important not to try.

"But judge, that's a big part of the problem. Everything I am now, I owe to you, not to him." Mark rushed on. Now that the dam had broken, the words came pouring out. "I found another way to live when I took your offer all those years ago. One where other people mattered as much as I did, where you did what was right because it was right, and not because you might get arrested for doing something else. Where doing the right thing was its own reward, no matter the personal cost. Where you offered to help because you could and not because there was something to be gained for yourself. I learned all that from you, judge, and I should have learned it from him." Finally getting it all out, Mark looked up to see tears shining in Hardcastle's eyes. "I love you, judge, and now that I've figured out what that feels like, I know it's not what I feel for Sonny."

Realising that there was no sense in holding back now, Hardcastle decided to just tell Mark the truth. "I … I love you too, kiddo. You're everything I could have wanted in a son, and I'm so proud of what you've chosen to do with your life. You were always a good person, deep inside, you just needed a little guidance to get you on the right path. I'm honoured that you chose to take it from me. There's a lot of stuff I never said to my son before he went away, and my biggest regret is not telling him out loud how I felt. Well, now I've got a second chance, and I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."

Risking a glance at the younger man, the judge saw only the top of Mark's head. Then Mark raised his head to look the judge in the eye. His eyes were awash with tears, and he was trying hard to keep them from falling. "Do you really mean it, judge?" The question was hesitant, but Hardcastle's answer was immediate and firm. "Every word, kiddo, every single one."

At that, the tears overflowed. Displays of emotion always made the judge feel awkward, but this time, it just seemed right to reach over and gather McCormick into a hug. And if he found himself crying too, well, where was the harm in that? It wasn't every day that you got a second chance at having the family you had always wanted, but been too afraid to reach out for.


End file.
